


family dinners

by altilis



Series: careful, ren. [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Interrogation, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altilis/pseuds/altilis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-TFA. Kylo's come back from Snoke's training, mostly. Hux gets himself captured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	family dinners

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of people have been playing with the ideas put forth in [this tumblr post](http://darthvadershotgrandchildren.tumblr.com/post/135778524323/random-tfakylux-thought%0A), but I wanted to put my own spin on it. Enjoy.

She's been staring at him for ten minutes while Hux has, for the most part, ignored her. But now he's done testing the metal cuffs that bind his hands behind his back; he's memorized the numbers on the door; he's already looked around twice for any sort of blaster pistol in the room and sees nothing but boxes of munitions. At least they're being careful with him.

Hux looks at her again, sitting on one of the boxes, her elbow resting on another and regarding him with a sense of quiet, regal curiosity as she leans her chin on her hand. He tilts his head back against the rough stone wall and makes an attempt at pleasant conversation: "You look older than I expected."

Leia Organa smiles a little, most of it hidden behind her hand. "Is that it?"

"Your treatsie on democratic incentives to maintain peace was littered with circular reasoning,” He adds, remembering one report ten years ago when he had to analyze it during officer’s training. There’s a small feeling of relief to finally tell her that, after cursing her name long into the night. “I also expected you to be dead after the surprise offensive on Tradus II, but I suppose you found an escape shuttle before we obliterated your fleet."

Her smile disappears, replaced with a cold, closed expression that Hux feels he's seen before. "The losses weren't that bad. And if you had stuck to your own plan, you wouldn’t be here."

He ignores the mention of his minor tactical error. Kylo had shied away from the opportunity and Hux believed (rightly) that it was just fear that kept him back. And of what, this woman? "The First Order doesn't leave survivors, and neither should you."

The comm link at Organa's hip crackles: "Check-in, skies clear, over."

Hux closes his eyes, trying to imagine himself on the bridge of his ship (and then he imagines Kylo, meditating silently at the window). "You know that every minute I'm alive here, the more imminent your destruction."

"You don't believe they'll rescue you?"

Hux laughs mirthlessly. "They will; they'll come to destroy me, and you, to keep their secrets safe. We aren’t built on the ideals of the individual. It’s what makes us stronger than you.” 

“There’s no need to preach, General, we can see your public reports just as well as the rest of the galaxy.”

“Then why are you wasting time with me?” 

Organa shrugs. “Oh, well, from what I’ve seen, men start to talk when they’re about to die.”

“Death doesn’t scare me.”

“So you say.” The comm link crackles again, this time with a language that Hux doesn’t understand, and Organa slowly gets to her feet. “I’ll be back. Get comfortable, if you want,” she says, and leaves the room, shutting the heavy iron door behind her. The overhead lamp switches off, plunging the room in a darkness only broken by the narrow slit of white light under the door.

\--

The first thing Kylo tells him when he comes back from months at Snoke’s citadel is: “I’m not done yet.” He says this in the privacy of Hux’s quarters, one arm braced against Hux’s chest while he pushes Kylo up against the wall, interrupting what would have been a kiss infused with the frustration and loneliness of thirteen weeks separation--and it makes Hux pause, his brow furrowing.

“What are you talking about?” Hux pulls back from Kylo. “Your training?”

Kylo slowly drops his arm back to his side. “Yes, I am here for specific purposes outlined by Leader Snoke--”

“That he did not inform me of--”

“Because they do not concern you.” Kylo snaps at him. 

Hux scowls. Years he had been working to be on equal footing with Kylo, to hear Snoke’s orders in the same room, and now that Kylo has spent more time at the citadel, he gets special favor again? “What then? Am I forbidden from touching you until you’re done? Is there some secret ritual I’m disrupting? Should I have brought a sacrifice?”

Kylo steps forward, raising a warning hand to him, as if that threat has ever worked on him. “Watch what you say, Hux.” 

“Perhaps you have forgotten that this is my ship, Ren. I accommodate your mysticism enough on the bridge, for all the good it’s done me, without having to fight it here.” He turns his back to Ren, focusing on a datapad on his desk to keep his voice even and calm. “Leave.”

For a long moment, there is no sound in the room, and then Kylo turns and leaves, the doors hissing shut behind him.

\--

Organa returns holding a canteen. “I figured you were thirsty.” Hux stares at the canteen, then up at her, not saying anything. She looks down at it, too, then uncaps it and takes a large sip, swallowing. “Not poison. Also, quite refreshing.” 

Hux has watched enough interrogations to know how these beats are supposed to line up - but he will give her nothing, he is sure of it, and the persistent tickle of smoke (from his crashed shuttle) had been bothering him since she left. “...fine.” 

She steps further into the room, and behind her another Resistance soldier steps into the threshold, holding a pistol and watching him. Understandable, but he’s only receiving a drink; he tilts his head back as she tips the canteen to his lips. The water’s a little sweet, a little sparkling, not actually half bad--

“What can you tell us of Kylo Ren?” she asks.

Hux chokes, pulling away and spitting water to the side; some spills from the canteen over his shirt, wetting his collar, but he’s too busy coughing a lung dry to care. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Organa cap the canteen and wait. The soldier tightens his grip on the pistol. 

One last gasp, a slow exhale, a little more time to gather his thoughts. If this is how they plan to unravel him, one slow chip in his dignity at a time, this will be a long night. “...why do you think I would tell you anything at all, especially about him?”

“Because you’re close with him,” Organa says, and Hux stares at her, cold fear sinking in his stomach at what she might say, “we’ve heard you share command of the flagship. You know him better than most.” 

Hux looks down at his feet, focusing on the bindings on his ankles rather than show a visible sign of relief as they skirt around what he actually knows of Kylo. Then it occurs to him: would it be so awful if that knowledge did come up? He glances up. “What can you give me for that information?”

Organa raises her eyebrows. “Depends on the information. At the very least, we won’t let you starve in here when we move base.” 

Small mercies. Hux feigns hesitation, then looks over at the soldier, than up at Organa, head tilted back a little, aiming to catch his eyes in the light. “Could I share it with you, alone?” he asks quietly.

“We share information freely in the Resistance,” Organa tells him.

“Do you want the information or not? I’d prefer to limit my humiliation to one pair of ears, please.” Hux punctuates the last word by leaning back against the wall, looking away from either of them. While focusing on a box of grenades against the wall, he hears Organa sigh, then dismiss the other soldier; his footsteps disappear down the hall. 

“There, you have your privacy.” Leia says, and she moves over a low crate and sits on it in front of him. “Now, what do you know about Kylo Ren?”

Hux turns his head and meets her gaze. “Don’t you prefer to call him ‘Ben’?”

\--

Kylo practices his lightsaber kata in the hangar. He used to find meeting rooms, Hux recalls, but maybe the movements were simpler and smaller then: now there’s sweeping arcs and forward jabs that will run four men through, and Kylo moves so fast from one form to another that Hux doesn’t notice the repeat in the movements until he sees the entire session four times over. Maybe Kylo also does it in public so that others can watch and be terrified; Hux isn’t the only one captivated by it.

Two weeks since dismissing Kylo from his chambers, Hux invites Kylo to share a meal with him in his quarters. Kylo declines, and Hux takes it in stride -- with this new project he has from Snoke, this is the least of the rejections he has to face -- but it still crosses his mind, sometimes, when he lies awake at night.

Then Kylo invites him to share a meal in his quarters. Hux, thinking himself above petty feuds, accepts.

Kylo’s cabin has just as little furniture as before, having been untouched while he was gone, except instead of setting up the meal on the tiny, one-man table, in the center of the floor there’s a tall bottle of brandy, two glasses, one basket of bread and one large platter of orange curry. Hux pauses in the threshold, staring at Kylo who sits on one side of the ensemble, dressed down from his normal outfit to a thin v-neck undershirt and his trousers. 

“Take off your boots,” Kylo says, his voice as calm and flat as it is on the bridge. 

Hux takes off his boots and sets them by the door, before stepping over to sit across from Kylo. As Kylo fills the two glasses with brandy, at first Hux watches his movements, but then he watches Kylo’s face: a cold, impassive mask now etched by that scar, but when he glances up, Hux is reminded of something that passed in Kylo’s absence.

“The New Republic conducted a funeral for Han Solo on Coruscant, soon after you left,” Hux says as he accepts the glass from Kylo. “Did you see it?”

Kylo takes a slow sip from his own glass. “No, I didn’t have the time.” Hux isn’t surprised: Snoke’s citadel is starkly devoid of any sort of technology besides the holographic connections, and he’s likely a demanding trainer, too. “Did you?”

“I needed to know who they would have in attendance, so yes, I did.” Hux takes a sip of his own glass, then sets it down, reaching for the flat bread. He tears a piece in half, and holds the other out for Kylo, who stares at his hand. “What are you waiting for?” Hux asks sharply. “We’re here to eat, so eat.” 

The half piece is pulled from Hux’s hand, and Kylo catches it mid-air. Hux breaks off a smaller piece, and then sweeps it along the edge of the platter, digging through lines of minty spice. “They had a pleasant eulogy about his family,” Hux continues, eats, lets the silence drag a little, “with pictures, of course.” 

Kylo drags his pieces of bread through the other side of the platter, gaze intent on the food, even when Hux glances up to watch his face. “They mentioned a son, and I swore I saw your face. Younger, of course. Without the scar.” 

Briefly, he thinks he sees a flash of pain across Kylo’s face, eyes shut and brow furrowed, before the mask falls into place again and he looks up. “Are you surprised?”

“Not at all. I had heard the rumors years ago, but it never occurred to me to check again. What good would it do? Leader Snoke has his decrees, and as tempting as it may be to earn his wrath, this name suits you better, anyway.” Hux sees a tiny quirk at the edge of Kylo’s mouth and the tension relax from his shoulders; maybe they won’t need to drink the entire bottle of brandy to get somewhere. “Was that why you needed more training? Patricide? Has it given you anything?”

Kylo openly grins now, and his good mood relaxes Hux, too. “The freedom it’s given my power is--it’s unparalleled. What I can do now...”

“I’ve seen your practice.”

Kylo laughs softly. “That’s the least of it.”

 

It is the least of it: when Kylo has him now, Hux feels not only the strength of his body but the overbearing press of his thoughts, the passion and the unbridled desire. When they’re finished, Hux feels as if he’s been consumed by that fire, left pliant and yet still wanting--addicted--and Hux wonders if that had been part of Kylo’s training, too. 

\--

Organa stares at him, then carefully sets the canteen down on the ground beside her. “How do you know his name?”

“I’ve seen his face, and I saw your husband’s funeral.” He looks up for a moment, gaze on the lamp overhead. “I’ve seen much more than his face, though.”

She slowly leans back, and Hux watches her again, watches how her eyes widen slowly in realization, so Hux keeps talking. “Do you know how many times I asked, before he took off his robes and his armor? Six. I held a blaster to his neck until he stripped down, and then I made him crawl to my bed on his hands and knees.”

Disgust twists at the edges of Organa’s eyes, another familiar expression. “You--”

“I fucked him until he was screaming my name, begging my mercy, writhing like an Arcan whore. Do you know, he can be so desperate for attention: once, I found him waiting for me in my quarters, already stretching himself open--”

“Enough.” Organa stands, slowly, weary; Hux allows himself a small smile of satisfaction. “You don’t have anything to give me.”

“I could tell you how to hold his neck so he comes without being touched,” Hux continues, watching as she walks towards the door. “Or perhaps you’d like to know how he uses his powers when he has the chance to fuck me.”

Organa pauses by the door and looks over her shoulder. “He uses his powers?” she asks, each word measured as she walks back over to him. 

Hux gives her a soft smile. “He likes to share his thoughts while he’s--” Organa strikes him across the face with a closed fist. His head snaps to the side, his bottom lip cutting on his teeth. Hux squeezes his eyes shut, willing the sudden flare of pain to go away, when a loud blaring siren starts to echo down the hall. He opens his eyes to see Organa darting for the door, then disappearing, slamming the door shut behind her.

Alone, Hux starts to roll himself to his feet, bracing his shoulder again the wall and cursing quietly. The light is still on, at least, but there’s nothing sharp in this room, nothing long enough to pry open these cuffs. He tries anyway against a pipe valve on the wall; the metal digs into his wrists, and now an ache starts in his ankle. He normally hates the Resistance, them and their cosmic naiveté, but now he _loathes_ them, leaving him in this underground cellar as he’s driven made by the endless emergency siren (now going on at least fifteen minutes), and he doesn’t know if the lake has flooded out the base or if there’s been an attack or if--

Hux hears the hum before the door hisses open. Kylo Ren steps in, carrying his lightsaber at his side. They stare at each other for a moment (or he assumes Kylo does, behind the mask).

“This is unbecoming of you, General Hux,” Kylo observes, nodding once to Hux and his burned, ripped uniform, his messy hair, now his bloody lip, “but I’m quite fond of it.”

“Stop admiring, Ren, and do something useful,” Hux hisses, shifting his weight against the wall. As Kylo steps nearer, the cuffs pull apart of their own accord on his wrists and ankles, and Hux barely has a moment to move his hands forward before Kylo takes him by the waist, pulling him close even as Hux makes a sound of protest, hands at his broad shoulders.

“Who struck you?” Kyo asks quietly. Hux can hear the soft breathing beneath the mask.

He licks his bottom lip for a moment, tasting copper. “Your mother,” Hux tells him with a grim smile. “We had a nice conversation. A story for later.”

“Indeed.” Kylo turns, pulling Hux with him towards the door. “Let’s go.” 

\--

Kylo stands next to the door as the nurse addresses Hux’s cuts and burns with the dermal regenerator; he says nothing, simply stands there with his arms folded over his chest, and Hux wonders if the nurse is working faster or sloppier because of it. When Hux decides she’s done -- the rest can heal -- he dismisses her, and she scurries out, clutching the medpack to her stomach and not saying a word to either of them.

Carefully, Hux sits up on the bed and reaches over to grab his shirt from the table. “Perhaps you should have waited outside,” he says as his back is to Kylo, and he pointedly ignores the servomotor hiss of Kylo taking off his mask. “Or not at all. Now they must think I have some grave injury if you’re watching over me.” 

As he’s pulled on his shirt, Kylo has stepped in front of him. At first his silence continues, only meeting Hux’s gaze, but then his hand comes up, fingers sliding along Hux’s jaw as the thumb brushes his chin. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing. Did you think I’d be so foolish?”

“I doubt you were silent.” 

In the privacy of the medical room, Hux allows himself a satisfied smile again, if just to see the way Kylo’s brow furrows at the sight of it. “Your mother asked about you.”

Kylo’s other hand slides over Hux’s shoulder, leather gripping into flesh. “And?”

“And I told her about you,” Hux says as he reaches up to grab Kylo’s wrists, anticipating--and still not prepared for when Kylo slams him back down on the bed, bent over him and pressing close as he pins him down into the hard mattress.

“You what.” Kylo’s voice rumbles dark and powerful, and Hux thinks--he hasn’t seen Kylo truly angry since he returned from Snoke. He wonders if that’s something he even wants to see, or whether they’ll need to replace the whole medical wing if it happens. 

“I told her about the first time I fucked you.” Hux presses his wrists up, uselessly, against Kylo’s grip: it’s more than just strength, Kylo’s using his power to hold Hux down from head to toe, a pressure that feels hotter every time Hux tests it. “Don’t you remember? The pistol?” And the look in Kylo’s eyes tells him: yes, he does. 

Of course, now, there’s pressure at his throat, too. “You--you’ve undermined me against all of the Resistance, what were you _thinking!_ ” Kylo pulls back suddenly, the pressure receding with it, and he paces the small room as his voice grows louder and the air grows thicker with his anger. “She is playing Mother to the one person in the galaxy who could destroy all of my efforts, and you’ve provided her ammunition to distract me on the battlefield!” 

Hux rolls his eyes as he watches Kylo, exasperation getting to him, too--would it just be distraction?--until finally he gets off the bed to his feet -- ignoring that sore ankle, that nurse would have to return -- to grab Kylo by the shoulder and by the hair in the other. He makes Kylo look him in the eye, so he can see the anger and fear, and Hux again wonders what Snoke told him during his time away.

“Do you think I haven’t been watching her, while you’ve been gone?” he says, voice deathly quiet and calm, if only to encourage Kylo not to yell again. “She’s a child. She plays with her saber like a child, and she can barely block rifle shots, much less capture them. You can destroy her, today, now; a few words aren’t going to save her. Your mother isn’t going to save her.”

Kylo takes a deep breath, and then nods as he exhales slowly. Hux loosens his grip on Kylo’s hair, disaster averted for this evening. “I’m surprised you didn’t manage to kill her today--your mother. You didn’t, did you?” Kylo opens his mouth to say something, but then shakes his head. “Pity.” Hux limps back to the bed, Kylo reaching out to support him by the waist. “Imagine how much stronger you’d be if you had.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Kylo says quietly, as he stands, steady, a weight to brace against as Hux sits on the bed again. His ankle doesn’t feel that much better without any weight off of it.

“It doesn’t?” He gestures to the switch on the communication console by the door.

Kylo reaches out a hand in that direction, and the button depresses. The nurse, if she’s brave enough, will come by eventually. “No,” Kylo says, his hand falling to rest on Hux’s knee. “You have to hate them, first.”


End file.
